The Promise

To thee whom holds any heed

Toward my very lucidity,

I ask of you experience

With encountering a thought so frequently

It enacts its own manifestation

Into a memory.

I furtively implore for your aid

And plea you ponder my proposal:

Do not fall foolish;

Do not place trust in your supposal,

Nor an inordinate bliss,

Awaiting sudden disposal;

Do not let your wings lacerated a grey welkin;

Let them less when all is blue;

Do not fall forgetful of

Your blood that hath abused you;

When confronted with inquiry,

You mustn't pursue;

Promise yourself to refrain

From the blissful addiction,

In avoidance of thy

Heart’s gruesome affliction,

Or the trembling tears

From the eye’s false depiction.

This promise you make.

This promise you brake.

Yet you, fly high young child.

Fly high.